


All That Glitters Is Not Gold

by PastelPrinceling



Series: Gilded Tombs [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Minecraft, Blood, Cat Familiar!Barbara, Fire, M/M, Mild Gore, Minecraft!AU, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Vomiting, Witch!Lindsay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPrinceling/pseuds/PastelPrinceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sickness in the core of himself is cured by a witch in the wilds, but her cure might be his undoing. Learning to see himself as something more than a monster is harder than he ever thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witch's Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as the fic progresses, including pairings and characters to avoid spoilers. If you have any questions or suggestions about this fic or any of my others, I'd love to hear them! Authors strive off feedback, so hit me up! [TUMBLR](http://pastelprinceling.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also note that Ryan is only ten. Goeff is sixteen. This will be a longstanding fic.

It had come into the village from the darkness, and brought with it a sickness. With faces of death and a sound like the wind through the trees. It came in the night, it came when everyone was vulnerable. In through windows and chimneys, moving without a sound through the village like a plague. No one saw what came, or what went, but when it had disappeared back into the darkness, things were never the same.

Half of the village woke with a rattling wheeze in their chests the next morning, like the hand of death with his bony fingers squeezing their hearts and lungs, making each breath and each heartbeat painful. Nobody had any idea how it happened or what it was. Limbs refused to move, just lifting heads from pillows to drink broth and take medicine to relieve the pain was a struggle for those plagued by this illness. Skin grew dark, black and wrinkled, as if… 

Withering away.

Ryan was but a child of ten when it happened, and with only a taste of the demon’s magic, he was faring better, as were some of the others in the village. Though their decline was slower, they were still inflicted with this sickness. The boy looked after his parents, sick as they were. He brought them water and mopped up the sweat from their brows. They smiled a lot and told him how much he was loved. He did his very best to keep them safe, to try to help them get better. He remembered being smaller and falling ill, nothing like this of course, but his parents had done what he was doing and he had recovered. He simply didn’t understand.

Geoff was sixteen, nearly finished with his apprenticeship training under the village’s hunter, Ryan’s father. He had come by after doing all he could for all the others in the village inflicted with the sickness, and he had hoped, oh he had hoped, that his teacher hadn’t fallen ill. He or his little family.

He found the child crying on his cot, the cot he’d dragged to the fireplace to stay warm, his parents in the back bedroom. Geoff could hear their weak wheezing from the front room. He knew they had fallen ill. He settled down next to Ryan on the floor and scooped the boy up into his arms, rocking him gently. He’d known Ryan since he was just a babe. He pet his hair gently, listening to the little fire crackle away in front of them, setting another log on it when most of it’s kindling was eaten away.

Ryan had fallen asleep in his arms that night, and he had let the boy sleep on his cot with a blanket. Geoff did what he could for the boy’s parents, but by morning, they were dead. When Ryan woke, he woke to the silence of the house, odd for the last week of labored breathing and delusional muttering. He knew, even so young, that they had passed in the night. He laid on his cot and watched the embers of the fire, shivering a little, but let it sink in that his parents, some of the only people he had known to love him, the people who spoiled him and kissed him and nursed him from sickness…

Geoff helped Ryan bury them. He wrapped them in soft white cloth, carrying them one by one out to the graveyard a ways from the village, and helped Ryan dig their graves. He was the one to let the child bury his face in against his leg, his own fingers in his thin, light hair as he said a few words over them. Ryan didn’t have any flowers, and clung to Geoff, the last lifeline he had in this world, his father’s apprentice.

Geoff did not stay in the house with Ryan though. He had other things he needed to tend to, other ill villagers who were still hanging on, and other graves to help dig. With people passing on, Geoff was one of the few who was not struggling with his grief and was still able-bodied enough to lend a hand for his home. Ryan spent a good portion of the next three days sitting on his cot by the fire, his own breathing slowly dissolving into the wheezing his parent’s had, the sickness slow to spread it’s toxin through his body.

On the third day, that was when Ryan, such a young boy with a huge loss on his shoulders, decided on what he was going to do.

His father had always said he was going to be great one day. He could be a knight or a king, a man of power. Ryan felt small and vulnerable now, cold and fearful of the world outside the walls of his home. But it was that third day, that third morning waking to the silence, and that is when he decided.

“Have you eaten yet, child?” Geoff asked, shutting the door behind him as he pulled the hat off of his head. He had dirt caked under his fingernails from digging and even at sixteen, he had deep, dark bags under his eyes from so many sleepless nights.

Ryan was wound in a blanket with a stuffed bear in his arms, watching the fire. He didn’t answer and Geoff stepped into the little kitchen to open cupboards. He gave the boy a minute more before he spoke up again, “Ryan, come on boy, come eat.”

He sliced off thin slivers of bread, smearing jam on them before he ate a slice himself, double checking with taste that the bread was still good. He’d eyeballed it, but it never hurt to be sure. It tasted alright. Still Ryan sat on the floor by the fire, fingers petting over his bear’s ears where the fabric had worn thin with his constant ministrations.

Geoff cleared his throat and before he was able to speak, Ryan’s small voice answered, “I’m not hungry.”

With a long sigh he brought the food to the boy instead, settling down next to him on the floor before he set the little plate with bread and jam between them. He rubbed his back gently, “You need to eat, Ryan. You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t.”

His voice was soft and his hollow eyes passed over the food before they settled on the fire again, “I’m already sick.”

The hand rubbing his back pulled him in close, and Geoff rest his chin on the child’s head and spoke gently, “We’ll figure a cure. The priest is doing all he can.”

Slowly Ryan melted in against Geoff, little hands with little fingers clung to his clothes, still dusty from his work. Ryan’s breath was weak and shaking, the same edge of a wheeze that all the others had. “You can’t bring back the dead, Geoff.”

The hunter’s eyes fell closed and he scooped the child up into his arms, dragging his blanket and his bear into his lap as well, being careful not to brush the blanket through the food. He cradled him, just a small child still, even for ten. He rocked him gently, the only means he knew how to comfort him.

After what felt like hours, Geoff settled the boy back onto the cot next to him carding fingers through his hair. He looked over that young face, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, his eyes bright and blue. His thumbs caressed the curve of Ryan’s cheeks, just under his eyes. Ryan closed his eyes and leaned into Geoff’s hands. He looked up at him and the man who’d been look after him, really only still a boy himself, leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I need to go now, Ryan. I have a lot to do. Will you at least try to eat?”

Ryan looked from Geoff, to the food on the plate still. He looked back and sighed sadly, “I’ll try.”

Geoff left him then, heading back up the hill towards the chief’s house. He needed a status on anyone else who had passed, and to be told if those who had were ready to be buried. They’d been given time to mourn over their loss and he’d visited Ryan to make sure the child was still alright.

When Ryan no longer heard the footsteps of his father’s apprentice, and now the greatest hunter in the village now that his father had passed, he shot from his blankets like a bolt. A pack filled with bread and a few apples and the rest of the jar of jam. A change of clothes and his best shoes. His mother’s sword was pulled from the sheath at the end of her bed. It was heavy for him, but he swiped his father’s cloak off the hook by the door and snuck out the back, ducking out of the village before he could be caught.

There were rumors than in the swamplands that bordered the farmlands to the west of the village, there lived an old hag. A witch with an ugly face and bats and cats who brewed potions and poisons. Of course Ryan wasn’t afraid of her, he had his mother’s sword and a drive to make things right. As he drew closer, as the murky waters started to eat the lands and he ducked through strings and curtains of vines, the fear started to sink into his belly.

He heard her before he saw the hut, the swamp darker than the forest or the plains. It made his skin crawl. Her voice was like silk though, soft and melodic. She was singing about ingredients and potions, and it reminded Ryan of the mnemonics his parents had taught him to remember his schoolwork by. Things rhymed and it was like a little song. It was nice, and it drew him in more, wanting to hear her nice voice and her cute song.

Ryan pulled the hood of the cloak up over his head as he crept closer, holding the sword like he’d always seen his mother hold it, trying to be stealthy.

A voice from inside the hut suddenly startled him, “Are you going to come in or not?”

He shook in his little boots, pulling his cloak closer around him. His little labored breaths hitched and he stood stock still. When the witch looked out the window, leaning on the sill to look at him, he stared at her. She was pretty. With red hair pulled into a messy bun with wisps of locks that framed her face. She smiled and he wanted to hide.

“Are you going to stand out there all day? Come inside, child.”

Swallowing hard, the boy crept closer, watching her until he passed around the corner of her house. She disappeared into her home again and he could hear her humming inside, probably brewing up a poison to steal his life! He tried to be strong though, and opened the door, sword ready to swing.

She was dressed in layers of skirts and a shirt that hung off her shoulders. She had pale skin and necklaces of all kinds, various rocks and a bird skull! The witch looked the boy over before she smiled. The yellow orange tabby that had been lounging in the other window jumped down to wind through Ryan’s legs and the witch asked quietly, “Do you want to kill me?”

Ryan’s voice shook only a little, “N-no. I need your help. But I’ll kill you if you try to hurt me, I swear.”

With raised brows she smiled more, a devilish little grin, “Really now?”

“Y-yeah!” He said, face hard as he raised the sword. 

He pulled in a ragged breath and she tilted her head as he covered his mouth with the end of his cloak, rattling off a cough.

“You’re sick, child. Did you come for a potion?”

All the boy did was look up at her. With a little titter of laughter, gathering up her skirts, she rounded her cauldron and crouched before him. She set her hand on his sword slowly, lowering it to his side. If he swung that thing around, he’d certainly ruin all her supplies. She couldn’t have that. Slowly she cupped his cheek, looking him over, his eyes and listened to the rasp of his breathing.

Her eyes closed and her face scrunched up a little when she smiled, “My name is Lindsay. What’s yours?”

Blinking a few times in confusion, his little heart was going a mile a minute. With her so close, he thought she was surely going to eat him. He shivered and croaked, “R-R-Ryan.”

“Mm, what a lovely name. I think it suits you.” She tapped his nose and he gasped, watching her with wide eyes. “Oh, none of that now. I wouldn’t hurt a child. You’re just a tiny thing.”

“I-I- but you _eat_ children!”

Lindsay laughed at the little king in her hut, standing up slowly, her skirts shifting at her feet just so, it looked like she was floating. She shook her head, “I don’t eat children. Whoever told you that lie is a great big jerk face. Now steak on the other hand, or a nice little cut of veal? Hmm, delicious.”

She was nothing but laughter and slowly, Ryan eased at the sound. Laughter was good. Witches didn’t laugh. Well, bad ones certainly didn’t. They cackled, and she had a soft laugh and a kind, fat cat. She couldn’t be that bad, could she?

“Now, about that potion,” Lindsay started again, now that she’d seen the boys shoulders droop a little, a clear sign he was more at ease with her than he was a few moments ago. She smiled sweetly and crouched, “Do you know what you’re sick with, Ryan?”

He covered his hand, suppressing another cough like gravel before he looked back, looking tired from his little fit, “I don’t know. A lot of the village got sick. A lot died. I’m… not so bad yet.”

Lindsay tapped a finger to her lips as she thought about it, humming quietly, “Can you tell me what it looked like? Their sickness?”

Ryan lowered his shoulders more, his sword in his hand by his side and his arm lowered so his cloak fell around him rather than using it as a pitiful excuse for a shield. The boy pursed his lips and thought about it. When he looked back up, those pretty blue eyes were a little more fierce. Oh, she would have loved to pluck those out and keep them in a jar. So unfortunate this little dear would be leaving with all his organs intact. He was only a babe, she couldn’t hurt him.

“A cough, sounding like rocks getting crunched up in a bin, weak, fever, they were talking nonsense, and-” Ryan swallowed hard, trying to find his breath, “Their skin turned black.”

Lindsay stood up slowly, nodding. She set a hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his hair a little, “I know just the thing to help you.”

Ryan stood indignant and pushed her hand away, “The priest couldn’t find anything and he’s the best healer ever! Why should I trust a mean ol’ witch like you?”

Turning, she put a hand to her chest with a little gasp, “Me? Mean ol’ witch?” She turned half away, “I don’t _have_ to help you, you know.”

Those blue eyes suddenly didn’t look so fierce and sure of himself. That little face softened into fear, into worry. Lindsay watched him from the corner of her eye and watched as his tough guy demeanor cracked and fell, and she watched as he put a hand up and stammered, “W-wait. I... “

The witch turned to look down upon him, eyebrows high, “What is it, child? Do you want my help or not?”

He squirmed under her gaze, just a young child still, but he tried to act so tough. No doubt he’d just lost his family, one or both of them having been strong people, and he was trying to emulate the same power and confidence with their belongings. The sword and cloak were much too big for his little hands and thin shoulders. He chewed on his lip and watched his feet, eyes darting this way and that as his mind raced to find an answer for her.

Ryan pushed his shoulders back when he looked up at her, “Please, please make me better. I wanna… I don’t wanna die like them.” The little dear tried to be so strong. She knew just what would fix him up right, and also cure him of that annoying puffy chest. He was not so big, and he would learn how vulnerable he really was, given enough time.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t. Lindsay was a witch, not an oracle.

With a smile like sunshine, the witch with her red hair and her skirts swished around the boy, and around her own little hut, fingers tracing over bottles and vials and drying plants. Ryan watched her, passing plants he recognized and plants he didn’t, what he could only assume were organs in jars, eyes and stones and flowers. He swallowed hard and watched her until her hand stopped on a little vial of rocks, blood red in color.

With a careful hand, she took the vial from the shelf and uncorked it. She shook it gently from side to side, and showed Ryan how the rocks lit up with such a beautiful glow. Lindsay tapped out a few into her hand to show him.

“They are called redstones. They will cure your sickness, Ryan.”

She plucked one from her hand and placed it in Ryan’s smaller hand, closing his fist around it. He pulled his hand back and looked at the rock as it slowly ebbed back to the dull, matte look of rock. He looked up at her, “What… do I do with it?”

Lindsay stood up straight, recorking the vial to set it back on the shelf with the others before she answered, “You swallow it, silly.”

He looked from her to the rock in his hand, then back up in disbelief. When he realized she wasn’t kidding, his voice was small as he asked, “Ca-can I have a drink, please?”

With a titter of laughter, Lindsay pulled a small canteen of water off her hip and passed it over, reassuring him gently, “It is only water, child. Don’t fred. I never mix up my potions.”

Ryan raised the canteen to his lips and she continued, “Or, hmm, where did I put that shrinking potion?”

He pulled the canteen away quickly, “Wh-what?!”

Lindsay laughed more, smiling for the child. She shook her head and waved at him, “I am only teasing child, goodness.”

He watched her with wary eyes, his jaw locked. He let loose another coughing fit that made his little face red into the crook of his elbow and she urged gently, “Go on now, Ryan. You will feel better.”

With tears hot in the corners of his eyes, he raised the stone to his lips. Even without it’s glow, it felt warm against the thin skin. He pulled it back to lick over his lips, feeling a tingling there. He popped it into his mouth and tipped back her canteen, little throat working hard to guzzle water to make sure the rock was washed into his gut.

Ryan coughed and sputtered when he finally breathed, shivering a little when he handed the canteen back to her, now empty. She hooked it back to her hip before she crouched again, picking up the corner of his own cloak to clean the water he spilled past his lips from his chin, tapping his nose.

“Go home now, child. Rest. Sleep. And by the time the sun comes up again, you will be cured of your ailments.”

He felt a little shaky, but it was probably from putting so much liquid into his stomach at once. He wanted to tuck against her, worn out and missing human contact. Were witches human? Ryan pulled his cloak up around him, holding his sword with a shaking hand and nodded, “Th-thank you, Lindsay.”

She leaned in to kiss the dear’s forehead before she stood, turning him towards the door, “Go on, there’s no need to thank me. Go home and rest before you collapse. You’re so tired. Go sleep, Ryan. Sleep and feel better.”

Ryan did as she instructed and on weak knees stumbled off towards home, keeping his ears sharp, but his eyes were hazy. Lindsay watched him go through her window until he disappeared through the trees and she went back to her humming and her little song, mixing things in the cauldron that bubbled away.

The cat that had wound through Ryan’s legs jumped up into the window to watch the direction the boy had left.

“Do you really think that was wise, Lindsay?”

She hummed a note, “Mm? What do you mean?” She stopped her work to look up at the cat who turned to look at her, golden eyes watching the way she held herself.

“He’s only a kid.”

“A tiny king,” Lindsay corrected with a smile over her shoulder.

“A child,” the cat huffed, tail smoothing over the windowsill, annoyed with how that whole thing had panned out.

The witch chuckled for her little familiar, her cattish friend. She tapped a few flakes of a shredded root into the pot and watched it turn purple. She capped the bottle and set it back with a quiet tinkle of glass. She hummed a little and reached to pet the cat’s head, scratching under her chin.

“Oh Barbara, my dear, my sweetest friend, that’s what makes it fun.”

Ryan stumbled into the clearing outside the village and Geoff was there to scoop him up, cradling the child close, weak from his walk and whatever the witch had done to him. His sword fell from his hand as he curled up in the older boy’s arms. He was shivering and Geoff cursed himself quietly for not keeping a closer eye on him.

He made sure he was comfortable, stripping off his cloak before he tucked him into bed, petting his hair and fretting quietly. He didn’t press with questions, he didn’t fuss, he didn’t scold. Geoff merely made sure he was comfortable. This was his fault, he’d left the boy alone when he knew he was scared and upset.

After retrieving the sword from the field, he sat by the boys bedside all night, bringing his fever down with cool water and keeping him hydrated. His cough rattled his little ribs, but Geoff sat next to him on into the night.

He was going to make sure the child was comfortable if he passed.


	2. Blood's Sheen

The sun outside was painting the sky a soft purple as it rose over the hills, chasing away the chill of the night. People were already milling around outside, the village not one to waste it’s time or it’s resources. Geoff had fallen asleep by Ryan’s bedside, worried sick for the kid.

Ryan was asleep now though, and Geoff was thankful for that. He’d woken slowly with a kink in his neck. The child slept mostly peacefully, something he’d well earned after the tossing and turning he’d done all night. His fever had broken and that meant one of two things. Either he was getting better, or he wasn’t going to wake again. Geoff hoped for the former.

The hunter’s son, he was a bright boy, smart beyond his years and clever. Geoff wondered sometimes if he was _too_ clever, but he was never one to argue a child’s intelligence. He wasn’t old enough to be learning sword or bow, but he would have soon, had things turned out differently. Perhaps Geoff could teach him. He’d learned from Ryan’s mother and father, so it wouldn’t be too hard to teach their son.

To teach…

Geoff sighed, stroking Ryan’s hair gently, pulling loose strands out of his faces. He knew the moment he’d tapped the shovel on their fresh graves that Ryan was his responsibility. It took a village to raise a child, yes, but the village had fallen on hard times in the past week, and a child like Ryan would go unnoticed and unseen in the scramble to try to keep the village from collapsing in on itself.

His parents had been Geoff’s mentors, and he was fond of the kid anyway, so he inwardly, silently proclaimed himself the kid’s caretaker from now on. He was going to make sure he was alright. Make sure he ate, cut his hair, tailor his clothes and teach him to do so himself, and even practice with a sword and bow given time. He didn’t really mind, it wasn’t as if Ryan was an infant thrust into his arms through such unfortunate circumstances.

He was ten, and that was practically old enough to look after himself. The boy at least had some common sense in his head, so Geoff wouldn’t have to hold his hand through every single task. It was a bit like taking care of a younger sibling, or a niece or nephew. It wouldn’t be too hard, he was sure of it.

“Geoff?”

With a sharp intake of breath, startled from his thoughts he turned to look at Ryan and those cute blue eyes looking up at him from his bed, still blinking sleep from his eyes. He smiled for him, “Hey buddy, what’s up?”

Ryan didn’t prop himself up, knowing he wasn’t awake enough for that yet, but he did roll over a little to look out the window, to see where he was and take in his surroundings. Father’s bed. Morning. He looked back at Geoff and with a voice thick and scratchy with sleep asked, “Can I have some water?”

That smile widened and Geoff nodded, pulling his canteen up from the side of his chair, uncapping it to hand it over to him, “Careful not to spill it.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, “I’m not a baby, Geoff.”

He sat up a little and tipped the canteen back and the memories of drinking down gulp after gulp of water to force the redstone down hit him and he coughed and sputtered. Geoff plucked the canteen from his hand and sat him up farther, rubbing his back. He huffed a laugh and muttered teasingly, “Told you.”

Ryan just coughed a bunch, and Geoff noted that it sounded better. There was not the same gravelly wheezed edge to it that the cough had had the night before, or that the others with the sickness had. It made his heart swell to think maybe the kid was getting better. Ryan huffed, the indignant brat before he curled up in his blankets, facing Geoff.

The apprentice tucked hair out of his face slowly, “You need a haircut soon, child.”

Ryan shook his head and Geoff’s hand away before he buried his face into his pillow with a little whine. He laid there for a minute before he looked up, “Geoff?”

“What’s up?”

“Can I have breakfast, please? I’m hungry,” Ryan’s brow was knit and he had the biggest puppy dog eyes. Of course Geoff wouldn’t have said no, but he really couldn’t with a face like that.

He ruffled his hair, standing up, “I’ll get you something, don’t worry. Stay there and rest.”

Feeling antsy, Ryan wiggled around a little before he gave in and laid still in the bed. He smelled the blankets and the pillow under his head and he felt safe. It smelled like his father’s leathers and hair. It was warm and it reminded him of the way he would tuck Ryan up into his arms and sit with him by the fire while his mother read to them after dinner. It was something they had done every night for as long as he could remember.

He rubbed his face against the pillow when he felt the prickle of tears at his eyes to try to calm himself and shake the feeling off. He hadn’t cried yet and he was a big boy and he wasn’t going to cry.

Geoff returned to sit in the chair next to the bed with bread and jam and honey and a knife. Something light for the child’s stomach while he was sick, he hoped. Ryan sat up slowly at the thought of food, his tummy growling quietly. Geoff smiled and slathered jam along one of the pieces of bread, cutting himself off a slice to smear honey on that one.

Ryan bit into the bread eagerly, getting jam on his cheeks, but he ate quickly, as if this meal might be his last, or he was that desperate for the food.

Geoff could only chuckle quietly, eating his own breakfast slower. When he’d finished off with the first piece of bread, he reached to thumb jam off his face, licking it off his finger before he set aside his own piece for a moment to make him another piece. He held it back from him for a moment, “Eat this one slower, I don’t want you to make yourself sick.”

The child chewed on his lip but he nodded, and smiled when Geoff handed him the bread, eating eagerly, but only slowing when he felt Geoff’s eyes on him. He was really hungry. He tried to eat slower, and sipped his water in between to keep himself slow. He knew getting sick from eating too much was never fun, so he slowed like he was told. But the pangs of hunger in his belly hadn’t subsided yet.

He licked his lips and the edges of his cheeks when he was finished and Geoff still had to chuckle and wipe Ryan’s cherub face clean completely. He urged him to drink a little bit more water as well, and he complied.

“How are you feeling now, Ryan?” Geoff asked gently, trying to be casual about it, dusting crumbs off himself before he wrapped the bread back up and capped the spreads closed again.

“Mm, I’m… I’m still hungry, and I don’t know why. My stomach kinda hurts too.” The child’s brow pinched and he looked up at Geoff, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

“Is it a stabbing pain, or a cramping?” Geoff asked, setting things aside to try to attend to him, the poor kid.

“Mm, it hurts,” Ryan whimpered. “C-can you get me a bucket, please?”

Geoff pet over his hair once before he darted into the front room to get the bucket from under the sink, coming back to hand it to the boy. Ryan held it close, hands shaking, swallowing frequently, a sure sign he was going to be ill. Geoff rubbed his back gently, and he could feel how tight his back was drawn, like a bowstring. He tried to sooth him, hooking hair out of his face and rubbing his back, but he threw up regardless.

A sickening sound, making his heart lurch to hear the young man heave a few times, huffing a few sobs in between throwing up. Geoff rubbed his back all the while and made soft shushing sounds, whispering that it was going to be alright, trying to reassure Ryan that it really was going to be okay, he was just a little sick.

When he was finished Geoff handed him the canteen again and set the bucket aside. He’d wash it in the river in a little while. He glanced down out of sick curiosity and cringed to see that most of it was still in the chunks Ryan had swallowed them, digestion not even set in. It looked to be just water and the sweetened bread and jam. He urged him to drink some water to take the taste from his mouth and maybe settle his stomach but on the second drink, Ryan squeezed the waterskin and lurched, vomiting over the side of his bed instead, just bringing up the water he’d tried to take in a minute before. No stomach acid, just bodily warmed water and strings of saliva.

Geoff took the canteen away and scooped Ryan up, settling him on his mother’s bed instead so he could strip his father’s bed of the soiled sheets, dirty with spit up water and the dry sweat of his fever the night before. He left them to the side, another thing he’d take care of in a minute. He crouched next to Ryan, petting his damp hair out of his face, the locks just a little wet from the sweat and exertion from being sick.

“Are you okay, pal?” Geoff asked quietly.

Ryan hummed quietly, chewing on his lip, chapped and dry as they were, “I’m still hungry.”

Geoff leaned in to press his forehead to the boy’s, unsure of what to say or do to ease his pain or his sickness. He eased him down into the bed, “Try to get some more rest and we’ll try food again in a bit, alright?”

He nodded, curling up in his mother’s bed, pulling the blanket’s over his shoulder to tuck in, looking worse than he had before. Geoff scooped up the blankets and the bucket, swallowing hard. He lingered in the doorway to watch Ryan curled up on the bed, feeling a stone in his gut. He was worried for him, truly. The child was sick, and it might not be the same sick, but he wasn’t a great guardian to begin with, and this kids had just lost his parents. What was Geoff meant to do?

Geoff was just going to have to do the best he could to make sure Ryan was healthy. He owed as much to his teacher, and the kid deserved a chance at life.

o0o

“Geoff?” Ryan croaked, peeking out of his blankets. He had an arm wrapped around his stomach, stabs and spikes of pain coiling in his gut. He swallowed hard, sitting up. He could see it was nearly dark outside the windows and he felt like he’d been run over by a cart, ox included. He left the safety of the blankets and sheets and furs, watching the shadow of the fire in the front room. He leaned on the wall heavily, calling again, “Geoff?”

He heard the front door open and shut and his father’s apprentice call back, “Ryan? Are you awake, buddy?”

Ryan poked his head around the corner, and Geoff’s heart lurched. The boy looked hollow and worn around the edges, much older than his ten years of life would say otherwise. He looked sickly and Geoff stepped over quickly to crouch in front of him, “Are you okay? How are you feelin’?”

Ryan swallowed hard again, holding his stomach as pain crossed his face, round cheeks and high cheekbones and the softest blue eyes. He looked like he was going to be sick again, “My stomach hurts. I’m hungry.”

Geoff reached up to pet his cheek and smooth his hair down, “What do you want to eat?” He was going to try to be supportive, and hope Ryan could keep food down this time.

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes hazy and far off, the fever still making his skin hot to the touch, no doubt making concentrating difficult. Geoff pet hair out of his face again and Ryan sighed softly, “Can I have meat?”

Brows pressed tight and he held one of his hands, “O-okay, uh, well what kind of meat do you want? You know we’ve got cows, pigs and chickens.”

Ryan shivered as another bout of hunger pain shook his frame, “S-something bloody.”

Geoff stood up slowly, his mind racing. The kid wanted bloody meat. This wasn’t normal. He looked down at him and tilted his face up towards him, “You want me to cook it some but still leave it a little juicy then?”

Ryan held the hand under his chin, nuzzling into it and rubbing his cheek against Geoff’s palm, “No, no. Can I just have it plain? That sounds really good.”

With his heart in his throat for totally different reasons than before, Geoff stood still, watching the kid. It was probably… some kind of deficiency. He knew that when women were with children they craved strange things, so maybe his illness was making him crave something he was now lacking in way of nutrients and protein. Licking over his lips, Geoff nodded. He pet over Ryan’s hair a little before he led him to his cot in front of the fire.

“I can… don’t worry, I can do that for you. Stay here and I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Ryan complied, easing down onto the cot to pull his blanket up around his shoulders, watching the fire, all wrapped up. Geoff took a moment to watch him, thinking of how innocent the child looked. Going through the traumatic experiences he had, he could not blame the kid for acting a little weird. He was going to try not to think about this too much. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he sat around dwelling on things he would probably never really have answers to.

He left the boy in his little house, Ryan’s house now that his parents had passed, and walked up the slope towards the butcher’s. It wouldn’t be too difficult to get a nice raw cut of meat to cook up, even if he wasn’t going to cook all of it. He’d probably eat a portion himself but Geoff didn’t feel the need to ingest the meat like Ryan did, and he hoped that meant that his sickness was contained. He hoped it was not one that spread easily, the kid was pretty damn sick. Before long though, he was headed back down towards the boy’s home with a cut of beef, wrapped up tight and still a little warm from where it had been cut from the rest. It made Geoff’s stomach turn to think of eating it raw, and he worried the boy might get sicker from it, but that was why he’d gotten beef rather than chicken. Less chances of serious illness or food poisoning.

“Alright Ryan, break out the pans, we’re gonna have a nice hearty dinner tonight.” Geoff laughed as he came back through the door, trying to go about this with an air of ease, with an unfortunate false sense of composure.

Ryan was quick to bolt out of his blanket on his cot and grab the pan from the wall in the kitchen to bring it back over, one of the knives and the bread with it. Geoff scooped up his bag from next to the door and dug out two potatoes too. Ryan set things aside for Geoff and got them plates and cutlery too, eagerness fueling his shaking hands.

They sat together and Geoff slathered the potatoes with a little oil before setting them on the rack overtop the fireplace to cook. He unwrapped the meat slowly, trying not to get blood everywhere, and Ryan licked his lips. It made Geoff’s stomach twist, but he smiled for him, taking half of the meat and setting it into the pan before he covered it and set it into the fire to cook up the meat.

Carefully he handed the raw beef with the wrapper still under it to Ryan, setting it on his plate to try to help it from seeping or spilling anywhere. He licked his lips again and cut through the meat with the knife easily, pulling a strip of it away. He forked it to his lips and didn’t get a drop on his face.

Ryan physically melted and smiled, a little bit of the color coming back to his cheeks. He ate the meat, humming happily at the taste. Geoff tried to distract himself from the scene by flipping the meat in the pan. When he looked back, Ryan had forgone the fork and knife and picked the slab of meat up with both hands, tearing into it with his teeth.

“Ryan! You’re going to make a damn mess!” Geoff scolded, reaching to stop him.

A soft glow met his eye when Ryan looked up, a mouthful of dinner making his cheeks bulge a little. There was the deep red stain of blood on his lips and chin and speckled on his shirt. His once blue eyes, those soft ocean sky eyes, they glowed a red. Not the color of the blood dripping from his mouth, but fresh blood, the blood just after an arrow pierces flesh, or a sword slices through. It was bright enough it cast a shadow, it made his cheeks look rosy.

Seeing as Geoff wasn’t going to take it from him, just watching him, staring in disbelief, Ryan took another bit and smiled for him, his lips pulling up into a big grin. In between that bite and the next he chirped, “Thank you Geoff, I feel better already!”

Geoff’s appetite melted away as he realized this child was sicker than he had initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any love, suggestions or comments, I've love to chat on my [Tumblr](http://pastelprinceling.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Hunter's Fear

He’d cleaned his face and helped him change his shirt, making sure he didn’t get the bedsheets bloody. A surprise to them both, Ryan didn’t vomit his meal again, and instead had a little bit of a bulge to his belly with the amount of food he’d ingested. He was happy though, the color back in his face, and without the taste of blood so immediate on his tongue, the glow in his eyes faded and he watched Geoff with those familiar, soft eyes.

Geoff tucked him in and pet his hair, and before he had a chance to leave his side, Ryan asked, “Is everything okay, Geoff?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, it’s alright. Why do you ask?”

Ryan reached up, pressing his thumb between Geoff’s brow, easing the tension there. He hadn’t noticed he’d been so tense, but that would have explained where the creeping headache was coming from. He nuzzled into the careful hand and held it to his cheek.

“I’m alright, I’m just…”

“Worried?” Ryan chuckled, shaking his head, “I feel better! You don’t have to worry anymore!”

Geoff pulled his hand away from his face, kissing across his little knuckles. Ryan chuckled again, wiggling his fingers, brushing knuckles against Geoff’s lips. “Stop, it tickles!”

He reached up to pet the child’s hair, “Try to get some sleep, okay? It’s gonna be alright.”

Ryan nodded for him, the mention of sleep making him realize just how sleepy he was. He smiled for Geoff before settling down into the covers, bundling himself up. Before Geoff left the room, he chirped, “Thank you for dinner and making sure I’m not sick anymore, Geoff.”

He stopped at the doorway, turning back to look at him, the shadows of the fire in the other room flickering across the walls. Geoff smiled lightly for him, the child, “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m gonna make sure you’re alright from now on.”

Hunkering down in his blankets, he nodded for him, piping up again softly, “Goodnight,”

Geoff smiled for him still, a soft expression, “Goodnight, Ryan.”

He ducked back into the main room, settling himself in front of the fire on the cot the child had dragged out in the time his parents had been ill and after. Geoff looked at his hands, front and back and sighed, watching the fire in the fireplace. He lost himself in thought, just watching the flames flicker about.

Eating the raw meat, the blood stained on his cheeks and the… the glow of his eyes. If anyone found out about this, Geoff knew with a chilling certainty that they would kill the child. They would string him up to a stake in the middle of town and burn him alive for being a monster. For bringing illness to their village, and for being the reason so many had died. None of this was Ryan’s fault. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he knew this. Geoff had no idea why he knew this, but he did. Whatever had killed those people, it wasn’t Ryan. The child wouldn’t hurt a fly.

But regardless of what Geoff knew for reasons unknown, he also knew if he pleaded, he’d probably be strung up for sympathizing with the child, for trying to defend a monster and a killer. It wouldn’t matter to them, still grief stricken and trying to learn how to keep the rest of the village going, it wouldn’t matter.

The thought made him stick to his stomach, to imagine this innocent child who… Geoff wasn’t certain he was innocent. Not really. He had hope though, he had hope that Ryan hadn’t intentionally gotten himself into this mess, and this was just an accident. Another strain of sickness to make them worry and fret. He’d be okay soon. Geoff watched the flames and all his mind was filled with was the sight of the boy struggling and pulling at his bonds, tears on his face, dried into lines of salt with the heat under him, crying and screaming for help.

He wrapped arms around himself, trying not to think about it., resting his forehead against his knees. He didn’t know what he was going to do to keep him safe, to keep him from the village’s eye. Geoff swallowed back a wave of acid licking at his throat and sighed.

With shaking shoulders and an even more unstable conviction, Geoff vowed he was going to do what he could to keep Ryan safe. The child deserved to live his life, even if he was sick with… whatever it was that plagued him.

o0o

“Will you at least _try_ not to get blood on everything, Ryan?” Geoff sighed, reaching to wipe blood off his face.

Ryan laughed lightly at him, presenting his cheeks to be cleaned up. “Sorry Geoff, it’s just really tasty! I’ll try to make less of a mess.” He set the food back down on the plate, cutting it into little pieces. He frowned when he pressed the blood out of the meat, pouting at it. He looked back up to Geoff, “Cutting it up makes it less bloody.”

Geoff chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Is it the blood you want?”

Little glowing eyes looked from between him and the meal, “Well, it’s really tasty! I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Shifting around a little, Geoff left his own cooked dinner to the side before he was able to find a canteen and rinsed it out before he took the paper from the child, being careful as he did to funnel it into the canteen. “You’re not to drink from this at any time other than meals. If you do, it’ll probably be sour and gross. Drink what you can during meals and wash it out after, okay?”

It was hard, but Geoff had a rough idea how to help the child, or, he was figuring it out. It was confusing, but he liked to think he was okay at improvising. If this was how things were going to go, he was going to do what he could to adapt to the way Ryan did things, and needed things done, no matter how strange he thought some of it was. No matter how unsettled he was by some of what he did. If it stopped him from vomiting and brought the color back to his cheeks, it was helping and Geoff wasn’t going to argue.

Ryan looked at the canteen, pursing his lips, “How come? Why is it going to go sour?”

“You know how blood can dry and become flaky? The same will happen to it in there. If it’s not fresh, it gets clumpy and gross, like milk when it goes sour, but much faster. I’m sure there’s a word for it, but I don’t know what it is.” He shrugged, “So don’t drink it unless it’s fresh, okay? The canteen will make it so you don’t have to drink right out of the funnel and make a mess. Or, hopefully make less of a mess.”

Nodding quickly he drank from the canteen and went back to finishing up his meat, cutting it up and leaving the blood on the paper so he could funnel it into the canteen to drink easier. Geoff watched and a small fond smile crossed his lips. Even if it was a weird situation, they were managing. It was going to be fine.

o0o

“Mm, Geoff, I’m hungry,” Ryan whimpered from beside Geoff in the kitchen.

“We just ate, Ryan, how can you be hungry?” Geoff was washing off vegetables and pursed his lips before looking down at him.

“I don’t know,” he looked down at his feet, turning away from Geoff, “I just am.”

Geoff’s hand settled on his head and ruffled his hair with a soft sigh, “Stay inside, I’ll go get us an early lunch, okay?”

Ryan still looked down, and Geoff hadn’t meant to use a harsh tone with him. He was just- he was simply a little frustrated that all the child could eat was raw meats, and the butcher up the hill was becoming suspicious of how much meat Geoff had been buying. Something for every meal, he couldn’t let the boy go hungry. And he was a growing boy after all, he couldn’t deny him the one thing he could eat and manage to keep down.

Geoff crouched in front of him, “Chin up, buddy, it’s okay.”

Ryan looked at him, eyes still sad, and he could tell the child felt guilty for something he didn’t have control over and he ruffled his hair again, pecking his temple, “Go sit and read or something, I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

A little nod and Ryan skittered off to sit by the fire, digging around in his bag for his book, settling into his pile of blankets to read while Geoff was away.

The trek up to the butchers was becoming familiar for Geoff, and that thought alone made him feel a bit guilty himself. The look he got from the butcher was at first a happy look, but it quickly soured. Geoff rubbed the back of his neck, coughing a laugh, “Uh, hey there Adam, how’s it?”

“Did you come up to chat or order something, Ramsey?”

Licking over his dry lips, he ducked his head, “We got through a lot, you know?”

“I don’t understand how you manage to go through as much as you do, you come up here like, three times a day. Where is it all going? You don’t have a family, Geoff. And I know you can’t be packing it all away yourself.” He narrowed his eyes, “You’re not feeding something in the woods, are you?”

Geoff looked up quickly, “No, no no, nothing like that. I’m… I’ve been looking after the Haywood’s kid after they died. He’s only a kid still, I couldn’t leave him alone to fend for himself. His father was my teacher, remember?”

Adam nodded, picking up a rag to wipe his hands clean, “I remember. But, that still doesn’t explain how the both of you are packing away so much. I mean, I’ve been giving you pretty hefty sums, I thought you were putting them away to save up or something, but if you and the kid’ve been eating it all…”

He rounded the counter with rag still in hand, “Is something going on, Geoff?”

Geoff swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. He chewed on the inside of his cheek until it was raw before he raised a hand to pat Adam’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it man, you’re right. We’ve been stocking up. I wanted to see if I could get a lot in the ice chest so if anything happens to me, the kid won’t go hungry. Don’t worry about it, I uh, I think we’ve got enough.”

Before Adam had a chance to answer him, Geoff bolted, ducking out of the butcher’s shop. He stopped at the corner of the building and nearly heaved. Before he went back to Ryan’s home, he stopped into his own home, more bare than it had been, as he’d moved a lot of his things into Ryan’s home slowly so he could look after him without so much back and forth. He scooped up his bow and arrow and the dagger with it’s sheath, hooking it to his hip.

His home, the place he’d grown up, it looked empty and hollow, and truthfully, so did Ryan’s own home. It felt like there was a storm building in his chest, clouds and lightning and heavy sheets of rain. Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. With a last look at his home for what he assumed was a few days, he left the place, knowing he could probably catch a horse or a cow, something big to feed them for a while.

Fears for Ryan nagged at him still. What if Adam was suspicious and told others? What if they came looking for him? What if they found him eating? What if they- what if they took him? What if they killed him?

Geoff took a few breaths, leaning against the wall to catch his breath and fight back the lashes of worry and fear in his gut. He promised Ryan he’d make sure he was okay, and if it meant…

He didn’t want to think about it. But he’d do it.

o0o

Drawing a slow, silent breath, Geoff held it. His arms shook a little from how tight he had the bow drawn, but with a much steadier hand, he let the arrow fly and hopped up after it hit the target, a cow, square in the head. It went down like a sack of bricks and Geoff pumped his fist in the air, “Aha! Get wrecked!”

He had food for the both of them for a while, and he didn’t have to confront Adam again. Things were going to be alright. He just had to see if he could get an ice rune from the local shop to rig together an ice chest to keep the meat fresh, and they’d be alright from here on out, he figured. For the first time in nearly a week, Geoff felt better about the situation that had landed in his lap.

Things were probably going to be okay.

Skinning and gutting the animal was easy, but he couldn’t do it out here. It drained too much blood. Blood that could be used for Ryan, so he might not dehydrate between meals. And perhaps even to see if it was the meat he needed, or if it was just the blood he crave unknowingly. If they had an ice chest, it would be easier to store the blood for him too.

With a length of rope, he bound the cow’s feet together, tugging them tight so he could drag the animal. Looping the rope around his hands a few times, thankful for his gloves, he pulled hard, and it came easier than he’d thought it might. Ryan’s father had always done the heavy lifting, but it wasn’t as hard as he thought it might be.

Hunting game in the forest for self was against the rules of the village. They shared everything, all food, all resources. But he had to do this for himself, and for Ryan. So at the edge of the trees, he watched the village until he had a clear shot, and dragged the animal out towards Ryan’s house, setting it up where it wouldn’t be seen. He tapped on the window in the bedroom and soon Ryan popped up, little hands on the sill, standing on his father’s bed.

Geoff pointed to where he stood, smiling brightly to see the child okay, gesturing for him to join him outside. Ryan caught the gesture and hopped off the bed, skittered off, even without his shoes, nearly slipping on the grass as he rounded the house.

“Geoff, you’re back! You were gone for so long! Are you oka-” He skidded to a halt, eyes wide as he looked at the cow at Geoff’s feet.

He put a finger to his lips, “Shh Ryan, they can’t know this is hear, okay? This is just for us.”

“B-but isn’t that against the rules?”

Geoff reached to ruffle his hair, “Adam, the butcher, he’s getting suspicious about how much meat I’ve been buying. I don’t want him to come asking questions.”

Ryan’s brow pinched and be blinked a few times, “Why not? Is something wrong?”

A thumb brushed over Ryan’s cheek and Geoff sighed, “Ryan, eating raw meat like you do, that shit’s not normal, buddy. I’m sorry. Do you not realize your eyes glow when you eat?”

The child’s eyes widened a fraction before they darted to the ground, watching the grass as he looked around, almost desperate to find something, anything to focus on other than Geoff’s face. When he looked back, Geoff could see a sheen of tears before Ryan croaked, “Am I… am I a monster, Geoff?”

Geoff pulled him close and pet his hair a little, “No, no. Hell no you’re not a monster, Ryan. You’re just… it’s a little sickness. You’re not a monster, okay?”

Ryan’s fingers were tight in his coat and he nodded against him, quivering a little in his arms. Geoff pet his hair until he settled. He smiled lightly and pulled back, looking him over, carding fingers through his thin hair, “How about you do me a big favor?”

“W-what?”

“I need you to go down to Monty’s for me and ask him if he can carve you an ice rune. I have the silver for it right here.” Geoff dug around in the little pouch on his hip, petting the grooving on the side of the coins to pluck the right ones out without looking, setting the three of them in Ryan’s hand, closing his little fist around it. “The sunshine will be good for you.”

Ryan swallowed and nodded, squirming a little before he wrapped arms around Geoff’s neck. He buried his face into Geoff’s neck and he stayed there for a minute or so. Geoff nuzzled his cheek against the boy’s head and rubbed his back, silent and letting him hug him. It made him feel better about this, that the kid trusted him like this.

In truth, Ryan had wanted a hug, but when he felt the pulse of Geoff’s neck against his cheek, he buried himself in to feel it pounding against his own skin, pupils blown wide. He was shaking still, but more from restraint than anything else. There was blood there, right under the thin layer of his skin.

“Thank you, Geoff,” he whispered quietly, “Thank you for taking care of me. I know I say it a lot but… I think I might be dead if you weren’t here.”

Geoff clicked his tongue, “Hush up, quit talking like that. I’m here and you’re not dead and things are alright. Now, off you get so I can start skinning this beast.”

Ryan nodded against him, drawing himself away from Geoff’s throat slowly, so much restraint in such a young form. He lingered for only a moment before he darted off down the path towards the town’s priest.

With a long drawn out sigh, Geoff stood up, watching him go before he went about finding a tarp, or something clean enough he might be able to keep some of the blood shed from skinning and sectioning the animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit me up on [Tumblr](http://pastelprinceling.tumblr.com/) about this fic or any others. I'm always open to comments, critiques and suggestions!


	4. Elder's Fire

With and icebox and a skilled hunter, Geoff and Ryan were fed. Things went alright for a long time. Every now and then when Geoff thought there had been a suitable gap in time between, he took the easy route and asked Adam for a big cut of meat. Ryan ate a lot though, and even in the few months since he’d lost his parents, since this fiasco had started, the boy had shot up like a weed. It was strange, almost, to see him starting to fill out so quickly.

Geoff sometimes wondered if it might be because of all the meat, but he tried not to think about it. Ryan’s jaw was squaring off, even at an age that should be nearing eleven, he was looking older. His eyes were sharper, his hands were strong. He was taller, though still not as tall as Geoff. His shoulders had a bit more girth to them and he needed a haircut.

With the height and the growth though, had come a voracious appetite. At first he could eat about half of what Geoff could before feeling full, but now he was eating at the same rate Geoff was, and it was getting increasingly harder to keep their icebox stocked. Especially when he found the boy slurping down cuts of meat in the middle of the night in front of the fire some nights. 

He left him to it, not wanting to interfere. The first time he’d seen it, his instincts had told him, _‘Do not bother an animal while it’s eating,’_ and he’d hated himself for such a thought, bile rising in his throat.

It came to a point though, that Ryan was going to have to learn to hunt. It was good that they had a bit of a stock built up, but if anything were to happen, Geoff wanted Ryan to be able to fend for himself. He was old enough, or near old enough to be taught how to hunt and even though Geoff had never mastered what Ryan’s father had been teaching him before the man had passed, he knew enough to be able to teach Ryan at least how to shoot a bow, skin a cow and pluck a chicken.

o0o

“You’ve got the strength in those arms, I know you do. Come on now, Ryan, pull it all the way back,” Geoff instructed, leveling his arms off and pushing at his shoulders a little to make this easier for him, to show him the proper form.

They were behind the house, the back wall of their home had a target painted on it, riddled with holes where Geoff had showed Ryan on numerous occasions how to do this. There were quite a few holes all over the rest of the wall and once or twice Geoff joked that at least he could indeed, hit the broadside of a barn.

“Geoff, I am pulling. The string is really tight, I’m gonna snap it.”

Geoff sighed, pulling his own bow off his back and pulling back the amount needed, looking down at the boy next to him, “We have the same exact bow, I made them both myself. You’re not going to snap it. Now _pull_.”

Ryan hummed, something between a whine of annoyance and uncertainty before he pulled harder, arm shaking just a little. He pulled it back to where Geoff had his own bow drawn, and let go, the bow scraping hard against his wrist. He was thankful for the guard Geoff had fashioned up for him. It had been his own while he had been learning.

With a loud _thunk_ the arrow sunk into the wall, just outside the biggest circle, just off the target. Ryan looked up at Geoff quickly, “I almost got it!”

Geoff lowered his own bow, smiling wide, “You did! That’s the closest you’ve been so far. You’re doing really well, but you have to remember that you’re not going to break it. You’re not nearly strong enough for that yet.”

Ryan nodded, petting over the string on his bow, smiling back down at the arrow in the wall. He’d done well! Geoff smiled too, and cleared his throat, “Now, do it again. And this time, don’t make me have to touch up posture. It might be lame and stiff, but it’s effective.”

Ryan grumbled next to him but did as he was instructed. He understood why it was important, but Geoff didn’t have to be such a stickler about it, really. Of course, he did or else Ryan was going to end up a soft, spoiled child if he didn’t learn some discipline, but he was still at an age where everything was stupid and he didn’t _really_ have to do all the lame stuff.

Even from the back yard, Geoff heard the knock at the front door. He patted Ryan’s shoulder, “Stay here, I’m going to go see who it is. You keep practicing.”

Another soft grumble, but the boy brought his hands up, pulling back the string like he’d been shown. Geoff smiled and left his side, skirting around the side of the house as the visitor knocked a second time, “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold you h-”

Geoff stopped dead around the corner, his throat thick. It was the head of the town, Gus. He’d just recently taken the title after the previous mayoral figure passed from the sickness that had taken so many others recently. He chewed on his lip before he spoke up, “G-Gus, hi. What brings you out here?”

Gus turned to him, “Oh! Geoff, there you are. Haven’t seen you in a few days. How are you?” He stepped toward him, settling an arm around his shoulders, patting his arm, “How’s everything going?”

Looking up at him, Geoff was a little stiff, “Uh, well enough I guess? I’m uh, teaching Ryan how to shoot a bow. Teaching him what his father taught me, you know?”

A soft, contemplative hum, “Mhm? And uh, tell me Geoff, what are you teaching him _for_ , if you don’t mind me asking?”

Geoff licked over his lips, rubbing his own cheek and the little bit of scruff that was there, “Well, kid needs to know how to defend himself, right? And I know how, and I’m capable of teaching him. So, why not?”

“Is that all, though?” Gus pressed.

“Well, no. I mean, if he goes out into the world at any point, he’s gotta know how to fend for himself, right? Hunt his own game and learn how to skin it and so on. I know this stuff, it just makes sense I’d teach him.” Geoff felt sick under the elder’s gaze. He felt like the weight of his arm on his shoulders was ten times heavier than it should be, and his eyes bore through him.

Gus let go, patting his arm again, letting his arm fall to his side. “Sounds fair enough to me.” He looked Geoff over, eyes lingering and he said slowly, “And what’s been happening to the game you’ve been bringing back from the woods?”

“What?” A stone of ice settled into his gut.

“The rules of living in this village and sharing the pool of resources, is that you also contribute to said resources, Geoff. We all have good, crops and meats, we all have clean drinking water, filters through the mill, we all have people to defend us and we defend others. Nothing is kept private, Geoff, you know that.” Gus paused, standing in front of the young hunter. A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing a pressure point a little to make him pliant and wince at the pain that shot up his neck and down his arm, making his fingers twitch.

“ _Why_ are you breaking our very simple rules?” Gus asked slowly, eyes sharp.

Geoff swallowed hard, voice shaking a little, “I…” He tried to choose his words carefully, “Adam, he was suspicious of how much meat I’d been buying, I don’t know why. Ryan and I, since I’ve been looking after him after his parents passed, we eat more meat. He’s a growing boy, he needs it. And Adam wouldn’t… sell me anymore. So I started hunting for us instead.”

He looked up at Gus and his voice was a little more solid, “If I cannot pull from the collective resources, I’ll take from what’s out there.”

As soon as he’d said his piece, he knew he shouldn’t have tacked on the last statement. He stared up at Gus and the elder’s eyes darkened. Geoff’s stomach laced with a quick spark of panic, but he fought with fight or flight reflexes, standing his ground. The elder wouldn’t hurt him. Right?

Gus’s hand left his shoulder and trailed up his neck gently, fingers soft and slow against his skin. He cupped his jaw and the feeling and twisting in his stomach only got worse, acid licking at his throat. He swallowed back an ominous feeling, like a black cloud settling on his shoulders.

With a voice like silk, Gus moved his hand to stroke through Geoff’s hair, brushing locks off his forehead, “I know what you’re hiding, Geoff. Don’t lie to me.”

Blinking a few times, his shoulders began to shake, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gus.”

“I said don’t lie to me, Ramsey, it’s a really bad idea. Matt might have been gentle with punishment, but if you’re not good for this village, you’re a blight upon it. I won’t have that.” He leaned in a little and Geoff could feel his warm breath on his face, “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not _hiding_ anything Gus, I swear!” Geoff’s voice hitched a notch and his hands shook a little, “I swear.”

Fingers trailed down his cheek again, “A little cat told me differently. Said the boy went to see the witch in the swamp. Told me she did something to him. Told me the boy’s a _monster_ and if I wanna keep my village safe, I’ll kill him and cut the sickness from his belly. And you _know_ I’m going to do all I can to keep my people safe, Geoff.”

Blue eyes trained on him, pupils small. The fear was clear on his face. Gus smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips before he eased back a little, “So, are you going to tell me again you’re not hiding him?”

Geoff’s mouth was faster than his brain, “I-I’m not _hiding_ him, he’s here. He’s been here all along. He’s just…” He swallowed hard, “Please don’t kill him, Gus. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.”

“He’s a monster, and a plague on this village. He brought the sickness here, Geoff.”

“No! No, he- the sickness came and went and then he- that’s when he went to see the witch. The plague, that wasn’t his fault!” His voice was frantic, but it softened, “Please, he just… it’s not his fault.”

Gus’ jaw clenched when he spoke next. He raised his hand again and gripped Geoff’s jaw tight, “That boy is going to be dead before sunset if I have to do it myself, Geoffrey. I won’t put this place in jeopardy because you wanna play house.”

There was a little gasp from off to the left and they both looked up quickly to see Ryan staring, eyes wide and wet with fear. He darted back around the corner and Gus surged for him. Geoff yanked him back, and something changed him him. He had been timid, not wanting to upset the elder, but when he’d seen him go after Ryan, go after the kid he was trying so desperately to keep a close eye on, a kid who thanked him every night for meals and keeping him safe, something snapped.

He yanked Gus back, “Don’t touch him!”

Gus snarled back at him, “Let go of me!”

Geoff’s eyes were wide too, and he called out to Ryan who’d fled back behind the house, “Ryan! Get in the house! _Now_!”

Ryan ran as fast as he could, bow and quiver abandoned next to where Geoff had left his in the grass and he doubled back around the house to the front on the other side. He watched for a moment as Gus struggled to pull himself from Geoff’s grip. 

The elder pulled back and decked Geoff in the face.

Stars blossomed across Geoff’s vision and he stumbled a step, the shock of taking a punch to the jaw like he had loosened his grip and Gus surged for Ryan again. He squeaked in fear before he darted into the house, shutting the door hard before he slammed the bolt across the door. 

Gus yanked on it a few times before he turned back to Geoff who was just clearing the black ring from around his sight and the stars form his eyes, “I will burn down this house if I have to, Ramsey.”

Geoff put his hand up again, “Gus, this is fucking mental, please, think about what you’re doing, Jesus!”

The elder stared at him for a long moment before pounding a hand against the door. Inside Ryan jumped, darting back into his parents room, curling up small in a dark corner. Gus stared at Geoff, and Geoff didn’t budge. The elder left and Geoff watched him go. When he was out of sight he rubbed at his face, knowing there was going to be a nasty bruise there, but it didn’t feel broken or dislocated. He slipped inside before he could come back, and locked the door behind him, sliding one of the chairs under the door handle just to be extra sure.

He tried to keep his voice soft and level, “Ryan? It’s me. It’s just me. He’s gone.”

Ryan peeked from behind his hands, shaking like a leaf, but he didn’t move from his hiding spot. Geoff stepped slowly, trying not to scare him further, and he found those glowing eyes like spotlights in the dark. They shimmered and wavered with the film of tears over the boy’s eyes and Geoff offered his hand.

Ryan watched it for a moment before he took it, letting Geoff hoist him from his hiding spot and when he could, he buried himself in against him, tight and shaking. He clung to Geoff, crying against him. His voice was soft and he cried, “I _am_ a monster, Geoff. I messed up. The witch, she tricked me, didn’t she? She said it would help me. She said it would cure my sickness. I felt so terrible, like I was going to die. I thought I was sick like my parents, like all the others. I asked for her help, I didn’t want to die too. She… she said it would help, I’m sorry, Geoff. I’m so _sorry_.”

Geoff rocked him gently, rubbing his back. He was quiet and pet his hair, letting Ryan get it all out of his system until he collapsed and melted into his arms. Only then did he speak up, “I’m not going to let them hurt you. I told you before, you’re not a monster. You’re not like me, but you’re not a monster.”

Ryan’s voice was small and scared, his face buried against Geoff’s chest and he pleaded quietly, “Please Geoff, please don’t let them kill me.”

The little plea, it broke Geoff’s heart. He kept him close against his chest, and he rocked him gently some more. “Shh, shh.” He pressed a few kisses to his hair, “Shh, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not ever. Do you hear me? I’m going to keep you safe.”

Looking up with tears trailing down his face, those beautiful blue eyes bright and shimmering like the ocean itself. Ryan’s lower lip quivered, “Y-you promise?”

Geoff leaned in to set his forehead against the forehead of the kid in his arms, “I promise.”

He would kill if he had to, he’d kill for this kid.

Voices outside, something shattering against the doorway, and the windows in the front room bursting in, the notion he would die for Ryan too settled in on him. He held him close as Ryan went stock still with fear. Geoff watched the walls and the windows, and his voice was quiet, trying not to alert anyone to their presence in the house.

His voice was low and sharp, whispering quickly, “Go out the window. The window above your father’s bed. Don’t waste time, the drop is only a few feet. Pick up the bow and quiver from the grass and run out into the woods.”

Geoff patted his back, making Ryan look at him, “Ryan, do you understand me? I want you to go. I want you to hide.”

Ryan stared at him, fear making the child near unresponsive. He rubbed his arm to draw him back a little and Ryan nodded quickly, fresh tears running down his face.

“Go, go.” He urged him from his arms and Ryan did what he was told, climbing up onto his father’s bed to pull the window open.

Geoff got up from his bed, drawing his long dagger from his boot and peeked around the corner into the front room. His breath caught as he watched the flames licking up the front wall, already engulfing the front door and leaking in the windows. Thick, black smoke was already creeping along the ceiling. He wasn’t able to climb out the window Ryan had disappeared through, it was too small. He needed to leave through the front door.

The crackle of fire was downed out by the sudden sound of the front door splintering under the damage and through the windows he could see most of the town rallied around outside. he couldn’t make out any of the words past the roar of the fire and the rush of blood in his ears, but he knew it was nothing but horrible.

Watching the fire, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do, fear starting to creep into his belly, Geoff lamented on the fact that yes, he would die for Ryan, but he had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any love, suggestions or comments, I've love to chat on my [Tumblr](http://pastelprinceling.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Dawn's Revelation

Geoff yanked the collar of his tunic up over his mouth, holding it there. His eyes were already starting to leak from the heat and the smoke. He buckled down hard, dagger in hand, and charged the damaged door, picking his foot up to plant it in the middle of the splintering wood. It gave way under his kick, breaking outwards. He moved with his shoulder first, the opposite of his dagger hand in case he had to swing quick.

It was a mob.

He had never thought that his village, his home, his people, would be capable of something like this, of a mob mentality. They held torches and swords and farming tools. Gus stood at the head of them all with a scowl across his face, but eyes alight with the fire flickering behind Geoff.

Someone rushed him and he didn’t have time to continue to lament on the situation, on the betrayal of the people he’d known his entire life. He swung hard and sliced his attacker clean across the chest. A shallow wound, enough to get them to back the hell off. He didn’t stay and fight, he wasn’t stupid. Geoff ducked his head and took off around the house, sprinting off towards the trees. He didn’t take the time to stop and get the other bow behind the house, and he was banking on the fact Ryan had done what he was told and gotten at least one of them.

One last look over his shoulder, he watched the fire eat away the home he’d taken up with Ryan, the villagers working their way around the house. Leading them was Gus, and a sinking feeling in Geoff’s chest said they’d probably be running for a long time if Gus was really adamant about this. But in truth, the man had just wanted the monster gone, and now the monster was gone. Either he had fled and wasn’t a danger to the town, or he was trapped in that burning building. Either way, Ryan was no longer their problem.

Up in the guard tower he caught the eye of one of his oldest friends, the newest head of the village guard, a boy not much older than himself, Burnie. Not part of the mob himself, standing atop the tower overlooking the village, he still had a torch in hand, and the sight of the fire dancing off his friend’s face was enough to drive Geoff into the woods and into the trees.

He ran for at least five minutes before he stopped, bending to cough and hack up a lung, the smoke had made him dizzy. Geoff wheeze a breath before he called through the trees, “Ryan?”

It was pitch black, and through the thick of the trees he couldn’t even see the flicker of the fire of the house going up. He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to lose Ryan. The kid could probably defend himself, but Geoff wanted to keep him safe. He wanted to know he was alright. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he called again, “Ryan!”

Geoff’s heart was already in his throat, fear making it pound hard. Fear of the mob, of the fire, and of the lost child he swore to himself he’d look after and keep safe. Ryan was gone. Had he run too far? If he doubled back, would the villagers have come out into the woods for them?

The snap of a twig made him freeze, pressing his back up against a tree so he could survey the area. It was dark, and through the branches overhead, it was hard to see, even with the moon full and the stars bright. Geoff clamped his teeth down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. He swallowed hard, and then he saw it.

About twenty feet away, was a zombie. One of the undead the guard towers were established to keep out of the village. Skin leaking pus and a discolored, rotten green, it was shambling aimlessly. It hadn’t heard him, it hadn’t smelled him. He wondered if it had both of it’s eyeballs even. He couldn’t see from this distance, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

With jaw set tight, he inched around the other side of the tree, away from the creature, his stomach clenching as the thought crossed his mind that was the body of someone who once had family and friends and maybe even children. It wasn’t a person anymore, but their body was still wandering the planet, and it was unsettling. He’d always been warned away from the creatures in these woods. Told never to confront them, only to run. It was the best way to stay alive, to keep his head down and his feet quick.

Zombies and creaking skeletons and the terrifying monsters that exploded their own bodies. A shiver ran up his spine to think of the Creepers in the grass and the trees, the hiss. Geoff nearly tripped over a root sticking from the ground while he was lost in himself. He crouched by the bottom of the tree, leaning in to catch his breath. He was no use to Ryan like this. He needed to learn to get out of his own head so often, it wasn’t good for him and it wasn’t good for Ryan either.

He drew a ragged breath and pulled himself to his feet, staggering a step. He sighed, running hands through his hair before he set himself straight, glad he could see a little better now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness blanketing the trees. Farther away from the threat, he called again, “Ryan? Come on, it’s okay! It’s me, it’s Geoff.”

Licking over his lips, he rubbed his cheek, the fear and isolation, the darkness and the silence… He was still only a kid himself in some ways. He had only just turned seventeen a few months back, during the fiasco with the sickness that plagued the village. It had been quite the birthday, digging graves.

A subtle breeze shifted through the trees, the shadows wavered, growing long and short. They caught Geoff off guard and he tucking against another tree with a low growl of frustration. He could feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes and he whispered to himself, “Geoff. Find Ryan. You fucking prick, find that boy. Stop thinking about stupid shit that doesn’t matter anymore, and find him.” He grit his teeth, “You promised.”

“You did, you know,” a little voice with an edge of snark to it spoke.

Geoff straightened up, voice a harsh whisper, “Ryan?!”

“Psst, up here,” Ryan called, still quiet. He knew the rules, a smart kid.

Geoff looked up quickly and sure enough, he was perched in the tree above him, sitting on one of the thicker branches, arms wrapped around another branch to keep himself anchored. He smiled, waving a hand, “Hi, Geoff.”

A loud, long sigh. Geoff set his head in his hands, scrubbing his face and rubbing his eyes. He glanced around before he scaled the tree, keeping his head down and his voice low now that he was closer to Ryan, now that he could talk to him. He reached to cup his cheek, stroking a thumb under his eye. He pulled a twig out of his hair and brushed some dirt off his shoulder. It was difficult in the tree, put he pulled his head against his chest gently, his heart finally sinking back to where it belonged. Now that he knew Ryan was safe.

He watched the trees, voice soft with his cheek pressed to Ryan’s hair, “I’m glad you’re safe. Good thinking, climbing the tree. Did you get the bow?”

Ryan pointed to the bow hanging from a little branch jutting from one of the thicker branches, safe and sound but not a hinderance to his precarious perch. Geoff settled in next to him on the branch under him, letting his fingers brush down his leg. He breathed out a final sigh of relief, and smiled up at the lad, “You did good, kid. Proud of you.”

Smiling down at him, Ryan ran fingers through his hair gently, like the man did for him when he was clearly stressed. The bags under Geoff’s eyes were deeper, and he could see little pricks of veins in his eyes, maybe from the smoke, maybe from the strain of watching everything in the dark like they were. He smiled gently for him, then it broke into a wider smile, “I did what you told me and we’re both safe!”

Geoff patted his knee gently, “That we are. We’re safe. We’ll get some shut eye up here tonight and head out to find something a bit better tomorrow, okay?”

Ryan nodded his understanding, chewing on his lower lip. He didn’t speak up, but it was obvious he had something on the tip of his tongue. Rubbing a thumb over his knee cap, Geoff pressed, “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

His lips were pale, a tight line across his face, “Do… do you think they’re going to come after us, Geoff?”

The hunter’s hand never left the boy’s knee, but he did look out across the canopy, watching through the trees. He still couldn’t see the village from here through the dense trees, but he knew the house they’d both lived in for the last months, the place he’d visited nearly every day before that, and the home Ryan was born in and grew up in, it was burning to the ground if it was not yet ashes.

“Gus didn’t want you to make trouble for the village.” Geoff rubbed his knee, looking back up at Ryan.

He was looking out where Geoff’s gaze had ended up too and his brow knit, confusion, and by the tone in his voice, hurt, “I wouldn’t hurt anybody, Geoff. I’m not… you said so, I’m not a monster.”

Ryan looked back down at him and Geoff pulled him to lean down, rubbing their foreheads together again, his hand on the back of his neck, “Shh, I know you’re not a monster, you’re nothing bad, Ryan. Gus, the villagers, they don’t understand, and with the recent deaths, they wanted a scapegoat. It was easy to pin it on you with your… developments.”

“Can we go back? Maybe not now, but… ever?”

Geoff sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to comfort him, “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Ryan sighed softly, tucking into the crook of Geoff’s neck a little. He could feel his pulse there and it made his own heart race, despite how heavy hearted the news made him. He hummed softly, fingers curling in Geoff’s shirt slowly. Ryan nodded against him slowly, voice soft, “I understand.”

He tried to pull back to comfort him more, but Ryan whimpered so Geoff sat still. He felt small and alone and like he was unwanted, but at the same time, he wanted to smell the lingering scent of sweat and fear, the smoky taste of the wood fire of their home still clinging to Geoff’s skin. To feel the edge of his pulse against his skin, the edge of his lips, or against his cheek. he felt safe here, and he knew in his cut that no matter what happened, things would be alright.

In the pit of him, unknown to the child, he knew Geoff belonged to _him_. The sentiment, the thought, it wasn’t strange, and it didn’t come with any thought to it. Geoff was his, and he was going to stay his for a very long time.

o0o

When Geoff awoke, it was to the feel of dawn on his face. He stirred and glanced around, surveying the surroundings for danger, and for Ryan before he was even fully awake. The ropes he’d lashed the boy to the branch with were loose, untied and hanging limp around the branch. He sat up quickly, working the knot with sleep leaden fingers. He tugged and they pulled loose.

Climbing down slowly, he crouched low, “Ryan?”

This was becoming a bit of a running theme, the hunter creeping through the underbrush looking for the elusive prey. This time thankfully, he spotted him rather quickly, though the find didn’t have him feeling much better about losing him in the first place. Two pinpricks of red in the dim light caught his attention and he froze, thinking it might be a lingering hellspawn safe from the sun under the shade of the threes. The closer he looked though, the more details he could make out.

The shape of a nose, the set of eyes, round cheeks and soft, thin hair.

“Ryan?”

“I’m sorry, Geoff,” he said, his voice barely more than a croak. He could hear the sadness and tears in his voice.

He skirted through the underbrush quickly, crouching next to him, “Hey, what’s wr-”

Geoff’s voice caught when he realized what was wrong. In Ryan’s lap was an ocelot, one of the jungle cats that prowled these areas. It’s throat had been ripped open. He looked from the dead cat to Ryan, blood smeared across his face, drying in a crust at the edges. Geoff swallowed hard, he didn’t have to ask what had happened, it was plain as the sun rising behind him.

Ryan pet through the ocelot’s fur, his hand smearing red through it’s spots. He had tears in his eyes, and he sounded heartbroken, “I… I didn’t mean it, Geoff. I was hungry, I didn’t wanna wake you up.” He looked up, tears streaking down his face, “It was filled with so much red.”

Slowly, Geoff eased the ocelot out of the boys arms and the tears streamed faster. He watched him set it aside in the grass, staring at it. Geoff tilted his chin slowly so that he would look up at him, “Ryan, it’s okay. You were hungry. Are you hungry anymore?”

He nodded slowly, croaking, “A little.”

Geoff pet a hand through the boy’s hair, pulling locks of hair out of the blood on his face, “Can you answer some stuff for me first?”

Ryan nodded again, chewing on his blood coated lips. His face itched where the blood had tried, but it was all over his hands and caked under his nails. Geoff hadn’t been able to see from where he’d sat, but the boy hadn’t just ripped the throat out, but opened it’s belly too. He’d eaten more than he probably should have, and was afraid. But it had tasted _so_ good.

“You said it was filled with red,” Geoff started, “Did you mean blood?”

Ryan shrugged, pointing to it, “It’s still got red, and I covered myself in red. It’s… not blood. It’s red. The cow meat had lots of blood.”

His stomach clenched but he pressed on, “What’s the difference between blood and red, Ryan?”

The child looked up at him, eyes still alight with that soft red glow. “Red is hot, it’s like silk. Blood gets cold, it’s thick. Red is in all the stuff that moves and breathes. Red is in hearts that beat.”

Geoff paled, watching Ryan with a wary eye. How much was too much? How much was he willing to go through. He was second guessing his assertion and reassurance that the child wasn’t a monster, that he wasn’t looking after a hellspawn in a human’s skin. All this talk of blood and beating hearts when his face was soaked in blood, it made him feel sick. He didn’t know what he was meant to do.

“Life,” Geoff croaked.

Ryan blinked a few times, shrugging, “I guess so. Maybe.” He looked over at the ocelot laying in the grass, “There’s no more red, just blood now. The red stayed for a little while after it’s heart left, but it’s gone now.”

With a voice he tried desperately not to let shake, Geoff continued, “Do you… know if you need red, or if you need blood and meat?”

Looking up at him from where he sat, his hands and his clothes and his face soaked with the blood of the animal he’d caught and eaten alive, he shrugged again, “I don’t know. But red is the tastiest.”

Geoff nodded slowly, standing up just as slow. He leaned down to pick up his pack from the ground, slinging it over his shoulder. The bow had been slid into the quiver, and the quiver hooked to the pack. He offered Ryan a hand. It was looked at with hesitation for a moment or two before he took it, letting go as soon as he was able, the tears he hadn’t realize he’d been shedding tried in trails down his face, breaking up some of the blood.

“Come on now, lets go get you cleaned up. There’s a river nearby.”

o0o

“Hold still, stop wiggling.”

Ryan whined and groaned, “Geeoooff, stooop, I can do it _myself_!”

Geoff sighed, “You’re not gonna get it all if you don’t let me do it, not stop fucking fussing.”

Pouting, he let Geoff turn his face about and manhandle him as he would, wringing out the rag now and then. He wiped blood from his face, making sure to get it all. “Your clothes are a mess too. If you’re gonna be eating woodland animals, can we at least keep some nice clothes. These are all we’ve got for now. I don’t know how to sew, you know.”

Another low groan, “I know, I know alright, I’m… sorry.” He ducked his head, pouting more.

Geoff turned his head slowly and gently until Ryan was looking up at him and he wiped a little blood from under Ryan’s nose, wiggling his own nose to try to get the child to smile. It worked, and he smiled a little, obviously looking like he didn’t want to, like he was fighting to smile because he was stubborn about his pouting. Geoff gave him points for effort.

“There, all clean.”

Ryan took Geoff’s hand, the hand with the rag still clutched in it and held it, leaning in to rub his cheeks against his wrist gently, running his nose along his pulse and nuzzling in under those already caloused fingers. Geoff sighed, ruffling his hair, “It’s alright. We’re gonna figure out how to make this work, okay?”

He finally sat across from him, the river rushing behind them. He pulled hair out of Ryan’s face and pulled locks of it through the rag, cleaning the blood out of his hair.

Geoff’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke up, as if he was hesitant and unsure of his own words, “The red, I…” He cut himself off with a sigh, letting his hands fall into his lap. He focused on Ryan and his words came out in a stern gruff, “If I tell you instructions, you’re to follow them without question, okay? You did really good back at the house when I told you to go inside, and when I told you to run. I need you to keep doing that, okay Ryan?”

The child looked up at him and with a set jaw, determination fueled by Geoff’s own sternness, he nodded, “I understand.”

He was slow with his movements, and Ryan tracked them like a hawk, watching every hesitation and twitch of muscle. The pulse in his throat thudded hard and he watched it. Geoff pulled his knife from his boot slowly, the dagger sharp and shining. Ryan stared at it and inched back a little with a barely there whimper. Geoff put his other hand up, “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. I promised I’d keep you safe, remember? I promised.”

Ryan nodded slowly and sat still, watching his guardian.

Geoff was hesitant, that much was crystal clear. He watched Ryan and thought a lot, holding the dagger in hand. He closed his eyes, holding his breath, and drew the blade across his wrist, a shallow cut, but enough.

He drew a breath, shoulder shaking. “I want you to drink, okay? See if the red helps your hunger, or if it’s more. Don’t bite me.”

Ryan’s eyes didn’t leave the dripping wound on Geoff’s wrist. Those beautiful sea blue eyes stared, and he didn’t even blink. Geoff inched closer, offering his wrist to the boy. Ryan took it with steady hands, a sharp contrast to his own shaking ones. Lips pressed to the wound, and the warmth and rasp of tongue lashed across it. It hurt, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Geoff swallowed hard, watching the child he’d looked after for a while now drinking the blood from his veins.

This was what his life had come to now. He was protecting a little monster. A young demon sent from the Nether itself, he could only imagine. And really, Geoff was okay with it. He’d promised. He’d promised himself and the boy. And who was he to go back on a promise?

He watched his throat bob as he drank big, greedy gulps, only a few drops escaping past the seal of his lips. When a feeling of wavering, dizziness started to set in, lightheadedness, he tried to ease his hand away.

Ryan’s hands clamped down hard and he felt the burning pain of teeth sinking into his flesh. Geoff hissed hard, pulling his hand away. He looked down at the wound quickly to see how bad the damage was, if he’d ripped flesh from bone. It was hard to tell with a fire of pain arcing all the way to his shoulder. He looked himself over, but all he saw, was an inch of pink flesh along his wrist, and four little circles, where Ryan’s teeth had punctured his skin, new scarring where painful wounds should have been.

With eyes the brightest he’d ever seen them, Ryan turned to look at him, teeth bared, four of them long and sharp, Geoff’s blood dripping from white teeth and thin pink lips. He stared him down, watching him pant, watching him shudder.

Eventually Ryan eased and he watched as he slowly shrank in on himself, blood on his face again, painting that pretty skin red. He picked up the rag again, lifting his face to wipe the blood away again, easier and gentler this time. He didn’t have to scrub. Ryan had tears in his eyes again and it made the red glow, so bright and so vivid, shimmer and waver. 

Geoff thumbed away those tears and said softly, “We should be going.”

Ryan stayed curled up in his arms with his face buried against Geoff’s shoulder for the next few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any love, suggestions or comments, I'd love to chat on my [Tumblr](http://pastelprinceling.tumblr.com/)!


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